Issue: 2014

My grandmother had a Bakelite Philco radio, model 48-250, brown with gold numerals on the dial. Its five tubes received the AM band and operated on 115 volts. I remember little about her, just that she wore black dresses with small white polka dots, pu … Continue Reading

Book-skimming is a bit like brushing fingertips across the face of the ocean. You caress a page and probe no deeper. Turn to the art tomes when words go from chime-clear to brassy. By the window of the bookhaven perches the kind of woman you don’t ask … Continue Reading

He paints a picture with a slow precision Every stroke a product of his weighted thoughts He drags the brush across the canvas with a gasp and his breath rushes out making barely a whisper He is an artist who sits with one fist curled as he captures hi … Continue Reading

The click, click of old Irish gold and wedding ring passed from nurse to hand, after a tug over a knuckle cracked and rooted in the past like an old ground stump.   Across the dance floor, at the Heidelberg bar, after a stranger’s slap to the ass … Continue Reading

What beautiful eyes you have. Look how gorgeous you are. Do you have a boyfriend? Oh, you’ll be a heartbreaker. Little girl grew up surrounded by praise, Words that kept her warm, even on rainy days. Looking in the mirror, she saw what they did, A beau … Continue Reading

I am perhaps the only professional artist to ever be hired for a job at a scientific research firm. The offer came in the form of an email from my high school friend Damaris. “I need my right brain,” she’d written as the subject line. That was our high … Continue Reading